Hurriedly putting away the milk and margarine, she grabbed the newsprint and trotted briskly to her bedroom, where she sat down at her small corner desk and carefully spread the periodical open. A taut smile began to spread across her naked lips, and she paused to look up at the photos taped to her bedroom wall. Clippings, snapshots and traditional 8 by 10 glossies, all pictures of the same face; the same pair of loving brown eyes, golden ochre hair, dimpled smile. All likenesses of a man who would have loved her, had they ever met. Had he not died.
Unconsciously, she reached up to press a peeling strip of tape to the wall. Pins and nails were against the rules.
Suddenly, everything was extremely clear, and she knew why Jessica MacKendall could not be allowed to adopt baby Chester. Why she must be prevented, at all costs, to gain custody of Cory MacKendall’s nephew. There was no question in her mind, now.
She looked back at the pages covering her desktop. This article would help eliminate one of the obstacles, clearing the way for her to make her move.
Chester Cory MacKendall belonged to her, and she would stop at nothing to bring the child home.
~ * ~
"Let me get this straight; you called the number, and it was the Minnesota Senate Office?" Dane looked over his shoulder at Jessica, who, perched on a bale of hay, watched as he curried Whiskey.
"House of Representatives. The nurse truly believes the man has to be Chester’s father. So Charlene was probably having some kind of affair with the guy."
"Is there more than one kind of affair?" Dane hid a smile. Charlene dating a politician was so left field, and yet bizarrely cliché. "So what do you want to do about it?"
"I’m not sure." Jessica got to her feet and went to stand beside Dane as he ran a brush down the big horse’s back.
Her proximity gave him pause. It was a feeling he would be hard-pressed to describe; anticipatory, excited, mildly aroused. He knew it was partly because she had not yet given him an answer, and partly because he always felt a little inside out when Jessica was around.
Whiskey swung his huge head around and snorted in complaint about Dane’s divided attention. Jessica took several steps backward.
"You’re not afraid of him, are you?" Dane asked, watching her expression closely.
"I don’t get along too well with horses," Jessica confessed, warily eyeing Whiskey’s flaring nostrils.
"He’s harmless."
"To you, maybe."
Dane chose to save further discussion about Jessica’s phobia for another time. It was a miniscule problem in light of the other challenges he now faced, one of which he had, admittedly, created for himself.
"Did I tell you I heard from my attorney about Zoe?" he asked suddenly, and Jessica turned her attention from Whiskey’s face to Dane’s.
"No, how’s that going?"
"Not great. I’m hoping we won’t have to go to court. Rita’s become a bitch on wheels. I’ve gotta do something, and quick."
Jessica sat back down on the hay bale. "What about Melissa?"
"She’s already a lost cause, I’m afraid." He moved to the other side of the horse, working steadily with the brush, admiring Whiskey’s shining auburn coat. "That isn’t to say she’s happy, but she’s her mother’s daughter, if you know what I mean."
"Can you bring Zoe up here for awhile?"
Dane paused momentarily; he had hoped Jessica would be amenable to the idea. "I’d like to."
Grooming completed to his satisfaction, Dane stashed his tools, secured the stallion in his stall and then washed up in the mudroom at the rear of the barn. Taking Jessica’s hand, he led her outside and then into the adjacent hay barn, where they climbed a rough wooden ladder into the loft.
"Wow. I feel like I’m in a Jimmy Stewart movie," Jessica commented, carefully stepping onto the hay-strewn floor. Dane unlatched and pushed open a wide door at the front of the loft, exposing a westerly view that always took his breath away.
"Take a look," he told Jessica, who was now grasping his arm for support as she wobbled onto the mound of straw.
From a distance came the voices of children. Dane pointed to the uppermost view of the creek, where Alexander and Devon frolicked on the banks.
"Is it safe?" Jessica asked suddenly, her face awash with concern.
"The creek’s about eight inches deep and I doubt if we have any of those killer tadpoles yet," Dane told her.
Apparently satisfied, Jessica made herself comfortable sitting in the hay, and Dane sat opposite her.
"So what’s on your mind?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, her eyes still trained on the boys.
"Guess I wanted to ask you the same thing," Dane began. Try as he might, he could not read Jessica’s mood; she could go either way. "Any thoughts about last night?"
Jessica did not answer at first, instead focusing her attention on rearranging the straw into a mound against which she could recline. Dane smiled as he watched her, still anxious but delighting in her every movement.
"I have lots of thoughts," she said at last, sighing and venturing a look into his eyes. "And I’m--I’m scared. I don’t know how else to put it. I just… don’t know what I want to do."
Dane drew in a deep breath and felt his eyes narrow involuntarily. He was loath to show his disappointment; still, she wasn’t saying ‘no.’
"I think we just need a little more time," she was saying, again avoiding eye contact. "There’s so much at stake, you know? Do you think… do you think we could just go on like we are for a while? I’m just so--"
"Done. Whatever you want. Just be honest, tell me if you think it’s a bad idea. I can live with that."
Now she looked up, and Dane saw real hope in her expression. "Thanks. I just don’t want either of us to make another mistake. I want you to know that I’ve been so much better, being here, with you and the boys. It’s been wonderful."
"I’m glad."
"Devon loves it here, too."
Conversation was again put on hold as Jessica lay back and closed her eyes. The respite was brief, however, and eyes wide with terror, she tore away from the hay mound, tumbling awkwardly against Dane.
"Something’s moving in there!"
Dane maneuvered her into his embrace, now chuckling softly. "You probably collapsed their living room."
"Whose living room?"
"Oh, the rats, mice, whatever."
Grimacing, Jessica pressed her face against his shirt, wiggling closer to sit on his lap. It was almost more than he could bear.
"Jess."
"I hate rats!" she proclaimed, her voice muffled as still she hid her face.
"Jess, look at me."
Jessica slowly turned her head toward his face, and Dane decided it was more than he could bear. His lips found hers in a heartbeat and heeded his obsessive demand for a kiss. The tightening of her arms around his neck fueled his need for more, and together they rolled into a passionate mass of reckless desire.
~ * ~
How long had they been in the loft? Jessica struggled to sit up, pulling her t-shirt down and picking off pieces of clinging straw. Beside her, Dane laid back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of the barn, his face flushed with dissipating passion.
Quickly she glanced out the gaping loft door, vainly hoping to see her son still playing by the stream.
"Dane. The boys. They’re gone."
"So?"
"Here we are, necking like a couple of high school juniors, and our sons are missing!"
"I doubt they’re missing." He reached up and pulled her back down against him. "Necking? Is that what you call it?" A bemused smile played upon his mouth.
Jessica’s heart was still fluttering, and she fixed her gaze on his lips. Sensuous was the only word that would come to mind. His eyes were boldly consuming her, and she could not help but liken him to a mouse that had just stolen the cheese from the trap without getting his tail caught.
"Making out?" she asked softly, tracing a finger around his still
smiling lips.
"It could be more," he said, slowly running his hand smoothly down her back and over the swell of her bottom, his hand finally coming to rest on the back of her thigh. "You say the word."
Jessica felt her face grow flushed once again. She had not felt so aroused in a long, long time. Kyle’s aborted attempt at seduction had been juvenile beside Dane’s encompassing control. And it had always been this way.
There was no denying that she could easily become Dane’s bed partner. Sexual compatibility was not an issue. The sparks had flown from the first touch.
No, it was a matter of commitment. Commitment to love.
~ * ~
"I need to go back to L.A.," Dane announced at breakfast a few days later. They had taken to eating the morning meal together, Jessica feeling a sense of routine would be good for the boys.
"Whatever for?" she asked now, cocking her head in question.
"He’s gonna kidnap Zoe."
Dane turned sharply toward his son, his expression serious. "Not exactly. You be careful about saying things like that. Don’t wanna land your dad in jail, do you?"
"Are you, Dane?"
"Of course not. But I am hoping to bring her back with me."
"She’s a cry-baby," Alexander asserted.
"She’s your sister. Be glad of that. And I’m her dad, too. She probably wouldn’t be a cry-baby if she was in a happier house, right?"
Alexander peered solemnly at his father before nodding his head in agreement. "Mom’s a bitch."
Jessica felt the color fade from her own face at the word issued by Alexander’s lips. She looked from Devon to Dane and then back to Alexander in shock.
"I’m sorry?" Dane asked, putting his fork down and leaning slightly closer to his son. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing."
"I heard something, and I didn’t like what I heard. I want you to apologize for your language, and promise not to ever talk like that again. You hear me?"
"You talk like that. You talk worse."
Dane closed his eyes briefly and exhaled a sigh. "Let’s just cut to the apology, okay? I happen to agree with that description of your mother. But it’s not okay to call her names. Especially at the breakfast table."
Alexander held his head high but his eyes diverted down. "Sorry."
"Well. You were saying about going to Los Angeles?" Jessica said quickly, before more attention could be paid to Alexander’s impropriety.
"I may have to meet with my attorney. I’m hoping she’ll just let me have Zoe without going to court. The kid’s really miserable. I talked to her on the phone last night."
"That is just so sad."
Dane nodded, pushing his plate aside. "You don’t mind my going for awhile?"
"Of course not. We’ll all be fine."
Dane left the following morning, and Jessica felt oddly discomfited.
Twenty-two
Dane’s Girls
"Honestly. What were you and Mom thinking? It’s no wonder she’s messed up. If I was her, I’d get a lawyer and sue you both." Melissa took the straw between her lips and executed a calculated sip.
"Sue us? Why? For being irresponsible enough to have another daughter when the first one was already so rude?" Dane grinned at his eldest child across the table, and then looked for the third time at the closed ladies’ restroom door.
The twelve going-on-eighteen year old ignored her father’s comment. "For giving her such awful names. How can she go through life being a ZIP?"
Dane now grimaced. Rita had insisted upon giving the baby girl her mother’s name. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that Zoe Irene’s initials might create a problem for her in later years.
"And lately, she’s eating everything in sight. It’s embarrassing for me and Mom. She’s such a little pig."
"That’s enough. She’s coming back. Just eat your lunch."
"You expect me to eat this… this crap?"
"That happens to be very good crap."
Zoe slid into the booth beside her older sister and picked up a fork.
"So tell me what you two have been up to lately. We need to catch up."
"Like what?" Melissa fairly snorted.
"Like, how’s school, what lessons does your mom have you suffering through, you know."
"School’s, like, the worst ever."
Dane cocked his head and turned his attention to Zoe, who looked up, her face a blank.
"School’s okay."
"I’m cheerleading," Melissa said suddenly.
Dane nodded. "What about you, Zo? Doing anything besides school?"
"She dropped out of dance," Melissa blurted. "After she quit gymnastics. She flunked out of Tindale’s, too."
"I think your sister can speak for herself, thank you. What’s Tindale’s?" Dane asked, directing the question to Zoe.
"They teach you manners and dancing and stuff. It was boring."
Dane sat back in the booth and sighed. "I see. Well, I was wondering if you guys would like to come up to the ranch for a while. I think you’d have a great time."
"You’re kidding, right?" Melissa asked, picking at her salad.
"Are there animals?"
"You bet. You like animals?" Dane asked, encouraged by Zoe’s interest.
"Some, yeah."
"Oh, gross. Horses and pigs?" Melissa wrinkled her nose.
"No pigs."
"Alex is there, isn’t he?"
"You’ve got quite a mouth on you, girl." Dane shook his head. Melissa was becoming more like Rita every minute.
Melissa pushed her plate aside. "As if Mom would let us go, anyway."
"Tell me more about this Tindale lady."
"She has this club," Melissa began, rolling her eyes as her sister snagged a cherry tomato from her salad. "Mom has to get in or she’ll die."
"Die? Really?"
"But it’s like, you know, really-really hard to get in. You have to be really like Miss Perfect or they won’t let you join. Mom’s totally losin’ it."
Dane nodded slowly, filing the information away.
"Are we gonna get dessert?" Zoe asked.
"How about a bowl of strawberries?"
Melissa sneered. "She won’t eat them unless they’re floating in whipped cream. Anyway, Mom’s gotta get all these other women to, like, say she’s cool and all. She needs one more."
"Can I have a sundae?"
Dane turned his attention back to the younger girl. Her wide set green eyes pleaded for the ice cream. He patted his own stomach and smiled. "I don’t know about you, but I’ve been trying to eat a little better lately."
"I heard Mom tell Aunt Lena that you haven’t looked so good since you met each other," Melissa admitted. "Don’t tell her I said that."
"Please?" Zoe begged again.
Dane’s heart went out to her; she was so needy he could feel the pain. "How about we split one three ways?"
"Not me," Melissa said, again rolling her pre-adolescent eyes. "I’m not gonna grow up fat and homely."
Dane could feel his face harden involuntarily. "Suit yourself. More for us, right Zoe?"
Thrilled by her father’s decision, Zoe batted her eyelashes playfully. "My name is Ashley. Ashley Marie Pierce."
"Like you could really, honestly change your name. How stupid can you get?"
"Well, Miss Ashley, should we have whipped cream and nuts?" Dane asked, ignoring Melissa’s latest barb.
"No nuts. We need a cherry, though."
"Mom’ll kill you."
"Mimi, I’m not worried about Mom. I am, however, worried about you," Dane said, signaling the waitress.
"And why should you start worrying now? You never worried before."
"I--" Dane was quick to begin a defense but was interrupted by the waitress taking their dessert order.
"And if you’d been around even half the time you’d know that nobody calls me Mimi anymore," the girl continued.
"I do," Zoe said softly, her eyes trained on the re
treating waitress.
"You don’t count."
"And anyway, Dad’s being nice to us now and I hate you to be mean to him so shut up."
Dane felt like he was watching a tennis match. He cleared his throat. "I stand corrected, Miss Pierce," he murmured. "I think we all need to work on being a little nicer to each other."
Melissa uttered a bored sigh, prompting Dane to do the same. The three sat in silence until the dessert arrived, and Dane forced himself to dip into it with a spoon. The look of shear delight on Zoe’s face warmed him, however, and his smile returned.
"Come on, it’s good," he said, picking up a clean spoon and holding it toward Melissa. "We don’t have to tell Mom."
Melissa looked from the spoon to the sundae, then to her father’s eyes, clearly torn. Dane was surprised at his own realization that his daughter was not choosing between thin or chubby, or even between her obsessive mother and suspiciously available father. Instead, Melissa was straddling the line between the comfort of childhood and the angst of adolescence.
"Maybe just a taste."
Dane was careful not to smile too broadly.
~ * ~
In the driveway at Rita’s estate, Dane stayed Melissa’s hand before she could throw open the Mustang’s passenger side door.
"I need a favor, ‘Lissa."
Wary, the girl narrowed her eyes.
"I’m gonna have to do some serious combat in there. I need you to go upstairs and help Zo pack some things."
"You’re really gonna take her, then?"
"I think it’s best."
Melissa looked uncertain.
"You’re welcome to come, too."
Her expression now unreadable, Melissa got out of the car and stood by, presumably waiting for her sister to climb out of the backseat.
Rita Pierce was lounging beside the pool. "Tired of them already?" she asked, her eyes well hidden behind designer sunglasses.
"On the contrary, we’re just getting started," Dane replied, sitting on the stone planter wall.
"And what’s that supposed to mean?"
"Zoe’s gonna take a little vacation and visit the ranch."
"Like hell, she is," Rita muttered, turning her head to the side and away from Dane.
"We’re leaving this afternoon. She’s packing right now."
"Over my dead body."
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